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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24416491">you spit out blood for me, but i wouldn't for you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nychta/pseuds/nychta'>nychta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ready or Not (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Drama, Hide and Seek, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love/Hate, Skeletons In The Closet, Wedding Night, danger danger it's the le domas, this marriage went so wrong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:09:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24416491</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nychta/pseuds/nychta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>grace receives a fair warning from daniel before her wedding.<br/>except it's an invitation to meet the rest of the le domas, wherever secret they're stashed in.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Le Domas &amp; Le Domas Family, Alex Le Domas/Grace Le Domas, Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you spit out blood for me, but i wouldn't for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day Grace suggests the Le Domas keep fresh meat in their stables, a sober quiet knits their mouths.</p>
<p>Get it? Fresh meat.</p>
<p>Horses, that is. Purebred stallions stashed to gawk at, definitely.</p>
<p>A collective sense of relief sweeps over them: her mother-in-law (though she insists on <em>call me Becky</em>) hitches a chuckle and her father-in-law amounts with a scoff (he definitely hates her). Alex merely assists her joke with an awkward laugh and goes on about pulling races. Get it? Because they’re richer than God. Grace forces a smile through and takes his hand, tightly. He grips her palm back, softly. Whenever they visit his parents, he grows even tender, almost in a protective manner. Often, Alex teases about how snobbish some members stand up to be. An unnecessary etiquette, he adds. Grace only offers a numb nod and stretches a rather distant evening with her soon to be family.</p>
<p>Daniel, though, does laugh, but seconds later. It seems he finally swallowed the joke down to gape at.</p>
<p>For a brief second, as Alex circles an urgent finger over her hand, she wonders if Daniel is drunk for jesting at her poor sense of humor.</p>
<p>Perhaps she should stop joking from now on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daniel is sober the night she fits her wedding dress: no waft of whiskey, or whatever expensive alcohol his mouth always brags off. Tonight, the knock at the door jolts her aback and she expects Aunt Helene to chastise her for… well, nothing. But Daniel isn’t dragging his steps around, his march is firm and constant when he finally stands before her. Raw instinct shrinks her away, too intimate inside white tulle. She’s about to snark him about archaic wedding traditions when she notices the clear intent in his eyes. Not lust this time, huh.</p>
<p>“The stables are, in fact, a great place to think, Grace.” Daniel says, determined. “It would do your head some good to ponder, especially during the haze of a wedding. Wouldn’t want to make wrong choices, right?”</p>
<p>“Are you - “ Grace scowls and pulls her jaw closed, gritted by indignancy. “Ok, that’s enough: first you flirt with me, now you try to sink my wedding down. Do you want to mess with Alex? Is that it? You don’t get to take it out on me, ok?” She draws both defensive arms over her chest. Alex tended to call Daniel a first-rate asshole, wearing a giddy smile sometimes, cinching tight lips other times. Of all nights to own that title, it had to be the night before her big day.</p>
<p>No excuses from him, though. Instead, he raises his hands up in sullen peace. “No, no, nothing but respect for my little shit of a brother. Just, you know, fifteen minutes for yourself should keep the nerves down. With something that isn’t cigarettes.” He points at the jutted piece that she impulsively stashed in her dress’ pocket.</p>
<p>“Or drinking.” Grace replies, half-appeased, and half-cautious. “That’s nice, I guess. But why would you want to help me?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t answer. “I can take you now if you’d like. Go in and enjoy the ride.” His eyebrows shot up and down. She didn’t want to consider that suggestive, lest now.</p>
<p>“I’ll stick to tobacco, thank you.” She manages an awkward nod and juts her chin forward, where the door shadows open for his steps to trail far, far away. The tip of a needle pricks at her skin and she slowly plucks it out. She had to be careful with this one: fine embroidery and a flowing skirt and all nice luxuries she could grant herself on her day. Le Domas tradition demanded all wives to differ with their own silhouettes. Alex had insisted on the purchase, but Grace wanted to pull something of hers. Something that spelled her. Except, foster parents often wise didn’t closet wedding dresses. So, rented, it is. Folded and ironed the day after the wedding, the clerk demanded. She was too self-aware to even prevent a drop of blood from falling when she settled the needle down. God, no, that would be awful.</p>
<p>Though not as awful as Daniel. Still there.</p>
<p>“Ok, can you get out? You’re creeping me out.”</p>
<p>He fixes her eyes on hers. Grace wonders if he’s straining not to drift them down, like he always did, despite the usual knot of Charity’s arm through his. “The barns are a great place to re-think, Grace. Just keep that in mind, ok?” He whispers and takes her hand, a rough knuckle pressed onto her skin with clemency. With desperation.</p>
<p>Grace sighs. She draws her hand away. “You have a wife.”</p>
<p>At that, a humorless laughter echoes. “Grace.” He seems to taste her name in his mouth, munch it whole until he finally adds: “Sometimes, she ought to think she doesn’t have a husband. But that’s not what I meant wit-”</p>
<p>“And sometimes you should remember your brother will be my husband.” She jabs back and that catches any warning left in his teeth. A senseless flicker of her hand at the door. “Please, go away.”</p>
<p>She liked him drunk, too much of a mess to string that pitiless dread that coils guts as she muses if her new family truly loathes her that much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the <em>fuck</em> did you tell her?” Alex barks out so much anger, Daniel is almost tempted to taunt him about this newfound bravery. He figured it branded along the ring. Though with Charity, he wouldn’t know of that.</p>
<p>“I told her you’re a communist rebel among a capitalist family. Now she’ll love you even mor-”</p>
<p>A fist rings against their father’s desk. Two snow globes rattle along. Good thing Alex always had soft hands or else someone would get into deep trouble before even getting to kiss the bride.</p>
<p>“What did you tell her about the stables?” Alex urges, persistent under the frown of Le Bail’s portrait.</p>
<p>“Relax: the anxiety will wear her down.” It wouldn’t. He knew an addict’s mind reeled obsessive. Alex was too pure-lunged to know, though. “Only gave her the usual warning, you know it comes along the initiation. Or do you mean to tell me Finch didn’t think we were serious until Le Bail fucking combusted?” He glanced at the portrait. “Sorry, sorry, no swearing.”</p>
<p>“Daniel,” and Alex looks exhausted, all efforts built upon a safety that will topple down the next day. He can’t tuck Grace under his lies forever. But one of them should always be hopeful, no? Daniel isn’t. “You can’t just tell her that, not now. Do you know how much she wants to marry? How many times I said that was a bad idea yet she always had this gleam in her eyes and she- “ Raking fretful fingers though his hairs, Alex looks more of a defeated man than ever. “She’ll know, soon. Just- not now. Let her enjoy this last night. Let her sleep with a clear conscience one last time.”</p>
<p>Clear conscience? Daniel huffs. “Are you sure you’re not trying to wash yours? When she picks chess tomorrow and realizes she’s not playing with us, but the Devil, will you still have a conscience?”</p>
<p>“Don’t torture her!” He suspects Alex meant to say <em>me</em> for a second.</p>
<p>“Then, don’t bring her to a slaughterhouse.”</p>
<p>Daniel can only hope, for once, that Grace won’t rot as quickly as all their souls did.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or worse: that she doesn’t pick the card that labeled her death.</p>
<p>Which of course she does, of course she had to, of course that one good person had to pull out her own execution-</p>
<p>He needed a drink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She likes to think it’s been hours since the beating of her heart propelled her feet ahead: either in a full sprint and a lost breath, or knees pinched as she crawled, her ragged hem rustled behind her.</p>
<p>Perhaps, those hours would bleed into sunrise, and that sunrise would grant her open doors. She wants to halt short and take a sharp inhale: three corridors away, voices mingle and she draws away from the knowledge that they’re rising for her, and her only. As foolish as it peeks in her head, Grace almost misses the silly idea she had crafted for wedding night: toasts clinked in between, the soft-lipped smile of Becky, the gentle apprehension of her father-in-law, perhaps a bit of reluctance among the rest. Everything boiled to the soft prod of Alex’s knuckle in her hand. It wouldn’t be too bad, she thinks as she skitters down the hall, fear pressed by sneakers.</p>
<p>But when she hears the drag of a body far from sight and the slump of Alex’s head in the distance, carried by Daniel, she’s even hesitant to follow. When she corners the brim of the house outdoors and waits to jolt awake in bed along with Alex, she doesn’t want to look back.</p>
<p>If I told you the truth, Alex hung his despair in a single gaze, you’d left.</p>
<p>She doesn’t know if it’s love or resentment, or if she wants to get leeched back into the vow that lovers must always hold hands together.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, Grace jumps.</p>
<p>Ready to leave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not to plunge inside hell:</p>
<p>No stallions, just the incessant chatter of sheep accompany her before she springs back and next thing she knows, her spine slams against filth and-</p>
<p>And bones.</p>
<p>Grace scrambles far from the dregs of skeletons, stench rusted by the spiderwebs and the dust under broken nails. A shriek hitches in her throat, drowned whole with the sickening inhale of them, of dead people crooking beneath her weight. She coughs, desperate to retch the taste out. Her hands fumble through the dirt and something ( she doesn’t want to know, she doesn’t want to know) rubs her ankle. Breath tangles into a struggle, no matter how many numbers she tries to conjure: one, two, an arrow hardened by time through an open chest, three and four and hollow sockets house an ear-splitting cricket, and she doesn’t make it to six.</p>
<p>When her fingers wrap around the age-tarnished ladder, she hears Daniel’s warning. Putrefied flesh spins her head until she had to take a moment and slump her grease-stained hair against a corner. A small tail swishes around her sneakers and she has half a second to stomp down.</p>
<p>Half a second to ponder.</p>
<p>If the acrid smell didn’t burn her nostrils, perhaps she would have laughed, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>can you tell this was hardly revised?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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